


3 Destiel Stories

by Aifeifei



Series: Destiel Drabbles [5]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Compilation, Drabble, Drabble Collection, Ficlet Collection, M/M, Short
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-04-19
Updated: 2014-05-31
Packaged: 2018-01-20 00:39:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,108
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1490299
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aifeifei/pseuds/Aifeifei
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>An updating collection of shameless drabbles involving Supernatural's most squishy hunter and angel, most often fluffy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Drabble #1: The Horrified Musings of Sam and Charlie

Sam shuffled into his and Dean’s hotel room, Charlie on his tail. She was going on about some type of text editing program and how easy it was to code viruses into its first platform. Or something. Sam was into computers, but not like Charlie was.

“I suppose there’s a bed for me in Kevin’s room, huh?” She asked, plopping her duffle bag down on the desk, starting a tad when the clang of metals brought to her attention the arsenal that was spread across the surface.

It was dark in their room, so Sam didn’t notice. Castiel hadn’t taken his bed, which he was pretty glad about. “Yeah, we tend to get the two queens just out of habit, anyway. It’s pretty late; you should head to bed soon.”

“I will, as soon as I find where Dean put my toothbrush and stuff.” Charlie threw around various bags and bottles around the room. “Did you see my backpack? It has the Deathly Hallows on it.”

Sam rolled his eyes. “Didn’t you leave it by the window when you were grabbing your iPad?”

“Oh, right. I have the memory of a toaster.” Charlie dashed over to the window, narrowly missing tripping on a whiskey bottle. She grabbed her bag happily, before letting out an ‘awwwww’ so loud it could wake the dead.

Sam looked up, about to give her heck, but she was busy cooing at his brother which was kind of weird. 

Dean was shirtless and snoring like a small dog with his arm and leg draped over their resident Fallen Angel, who’s own arms were nearly falling off the bed. Which was also kind of weird, so Sam did his little confused bitchface that made him look like a pissed off puppy.

“Apparently that’s what beer goggles can do.” Charlie nodded, jumping up and down happily.

“Um.” Sam coughed. “I hope they didn’t work _too_ well.”

Charlie grabbed the blanket and pulled it just a tad. “It’s alright, Sam. They’re still wearing clothes.”

“Ew, Charlie.” Sam blanched, wiping his hands on his pants like he caught dirty-thought germs. “That’s my brother you’re talking about.”

“You’ve seen him naked loads of times, I’m sure.”

“Not in bed with angel dudes!” Sam stressed, throwing his hands out. “That’s like… taboo times two. And definitely not an option.”

“You’re right, Sam.” Charlie nodded dramatically, swinging her bag over her shoulder. “Because you’ve _never_ slept with anything inhuman. And because it’s totally platonic to snuggle with your little angelic best friend after drinking and probably talking about manly things like why you guys made him leave the bunker.” Charlie shook her head. “Absolutely no way this went any way except for super not-gay. This is totally not-gay, totally.”

“Why don’t you go back to your room, now, Charlie.” Sam asked, gently pushing her towards the door, after making a face that made him look like Wednesday Addams.

“Also, it’s summer time. Summer time in Arkansas when it’s 80 degrees out is definitely a non-gay time to snuggle.” Charlie nodded to herself, smirking as Sam’s eyebrows began twitching faster.

“You can leave now, Charlie.” Sam opened the door and pushed her through.

“Just don’t get out of bed if you hear any strange sounds.”

“Goodbye, Charlie.” Sam slammed the door in her face, before shivering. Man, she knew how to get to him. Gay people were lovely. Brothers too. Angels too (well, sometimes). But brothers being gay with angels? That was wrong for all the reasons that stray housecats and lonely lions shouldn’t try being domestic with each other.

Of course Sam was not an idiot and he had a lot of time to prepare for all that is Castiel. This was inevitable. Probably having any sort of relations with fallen angels was bad but Dean was always the most stubborn piece of work he’d ever known. 

However, that didn’t stop him from muttering a little ‘ew, creepy’ as he shivered into his own large and very unoccupied bed. No angels for him, please. He preferred very human (that’s arguable), very female, and very mentally stable snuggle partners. 

Except Sam didn’t snuggle at all because that was unmanly.


	2. Fish!Cas Drabble

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam is dating a mermaid man thing. Dean doesn't get it. Well, at least until he stumbles across another mermaid man, named Castiel.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This fanfic was an anon request to AO3 user Valeada on her Tumblr (gabrielsfeatherybutt). She didn't have time and I had lots, so I decided to write it! (I'm sunshine-chinaline on Tumblr, btw)

Dean threw a stone far into the ocean. It was supposed to skip, really, but it just made a dull plop and sunk to the bottom. Or, perhaps it did skip a bit, but Dean couldn’t see because of the heavy mist above the waves as they crashed into the rocks.

“Little brothers, man…” Dean grumbled, rubbing his hand over his eyes.

Sam had come to him, about three days ago, and brought him to this small, rocky  beach where his feet could barely miss the sea foam in an unreachable spot under Cape Foulweather. Imagine his surprise when a short, snarky-mouthed, cocky half-fish pops out of the ocean and says: “Heyo, Sammy. Is this the famous, dense, and stubborn Dean Winchester you’ve told me about?”

Now, the shock of the golden scales slapping against the waves was enough reason for Dean to sleep for approximately 24 hours and miss his Monday Class, but it was Sam’s feeble “This is my boyfriend, Gabriel” that had him questioning his sanity. Dean hadn’t remembered taking acid since first year, and he almost checked into a mental hospital to make sure he wasn’t being poisoned with a strange type of LSD.

Dean sighed again, bowing his head. No-one could blame his confusion, right? His brother was dating a fish! And on top of that, the fish he was dating was kind of a dickbag!

Dean stood up, kicking a few shells and rocks into the misty water while grumbling loudly. On a particularly rough kick, a long arm shot up from behind a big rock  and caught a shell shrapnel. Dean made an unmanly sound, jumping and falling back onto his own stoney chair.

“Holy mother of—” Dean started, before catching himself. “Gabriel, is that you?” Dean shouted, glaring at the rock where the hand had materialized. “I swear to God, if annoying me becomes a regular pastime of yours…”

The threat trailed off awkwardly as Dean registered a pair of blinking, royal blue eyes framed by dark hair peeking through the mist over the rock. Dean frowned, pushing himself slowly off of his own rock.

“You’re not Gabriel.”

The head bobbed up, slowly, revealing a soft and quite endearing face. It popped its arms up over the rock and folded them gently over each other. He cocked his head. The movements were so simple and and his facial expression was so human that Dean was almost convinced that this thing was, in fact, a human. Dean saw a bright blue tail flash out of the ocean and back in again, and he decided that no, this wasn’t a human.

“Gabriel is my brother,” the fish said, blue eyes blinking and voice deep. “Do you know him?”

Dean stood awkwardly, positively off-guard, clutching a rock in his hands. He swallowed, trying not to stare and this strange thing. “He’s uh.” Dean started. “I think he’s dating _my_ brother.” Dean’s voice was off, and less harsh than he was used to, like the salty water had washed away his roughness.

The fish man widened his eyes, turning slightly uncomfortably to the side, nodding. He half-hazardly reached over the rock and picked up a shell to run his fingers over it. Dean found himself walking a little bit closer. This fish person was very different from Gabriel. Perhaps, Dean considered, in the back of his head, they were as diverse as humans themselves.

The fish dude looked up, tail flicking gracefully through the water. “Yes, I was told about that.” Dean nodded, not deciding what he could say. “It’s a bit strange, isn’t it?”

Dean cleared his throat. “Yeah. I mean, uh. He’s. He’s a fish, you know?” The blue tail flopped slightly and Dean, in a panic, threw up his hands (and the rock). “Or uh, you know, fish-man. Mermaid guy. Water…” Dean blushed. “Person. Whatever you guys prefer.”

“Yes,” The fish-dude said, eyes crinkling slightly, and it looked suspiciously like a hidden, delighted smile. It changed then, to a pondering linger of eyes. “And you’re a human.” Dean caught, in a small second, his torso sinking slightly deeper into the ocean. “He,” came the correction, “He’s a human.”

Dean gaped as the dark brown tuft of hair dipped bashfully behind the rock, and surprised himself by stepping forward in worry that the fish-man was about to leave.

“Wait,” Dean called, reddening. “I guess it doesn’t bother me that much, you know? It… it was just strange to think about. At first,” Dean included, as an afterthought he wished he could stuff back into his mouth.

His new friend rose up through the fog again, new water droplets swinging off of the dark, salt-worn strands. “Me neither,” he clarified, and in the  awkward silence added: “I’m sure your brother is very nice.”

“He is,” Dean agreed, trying to ignore that his heart was running a mile a minute and he couldn’t take his eyes off of the blue ones he was looking into. A few myths about mermaids luring men to their deaths ran through his head — did they come in the gay variety too? Even evil could be progressive, he supposed. But case is, Dean was standing on a foggy, cold beach in Oregon with the smell of sweet brine and a half-fish with blue eyes and an entrancing demeanor. How could Dean possibly tell Sam that he too had feelings for a fish (that he met not five minutes ago, mind you). Sam would make fun of him. Dean had half the mind to leave, but as he looked into bright blue eyes and dark eyelashes he decided that he wasn’t that stupid.

“I’m Dean,” He blurted out, cracking a shell in his hands and flushing lightly. “What should I call you?”

The fish man moved gracefully out from behind the rock, pulling his shiny tail to his side. Dean followed the movement and sat in the sand, noticing with a captivated heart that the royal blue of his scales matched his eyes.

“I’m Castiel,” he said, smiling gently at Dean through the light fog. “It’s lovely to meet you, Dean.”

 

Later that night, Dean came home smelling like warm seaweed and saltwater. Sam looked up from his law textbook, which was hiding a painfully hipster-y photograph of giant feet and a gold fin.

“Hi, Dean…” Sam said, narrowing his eyes suspiciously.

“Hi, Sam.” Dean said, plopping down at the table with a tub of cold pasta from the fridge and smiling. “Guess what?”

“What did you do?” Sam asked, sighing.

“Nothing, dude,” Dean laughed. “I’ve just decided that it’s okay that you’re dating a fish. I met one today. I guess they’re not as bad as I thought.”

“What’s his name?” Sam wondered.

“Castiel,” Dean said, smiling happily even with noodles hanging from his mouth. “He has blue eyes.”

Sam might have been younger than Dean, but it didn’t take a rocket scientist to come to the conclusion that Dean was totally and completely done for.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't actually write Sabriel at all, and I don't know their dynamics, so I tried to leave it mostly between Dean and Cas. I hope I did alright!
> 
> PSSSST: By 'I had free time', what I really mean is 'I was in class and wanted to write fanfiction'. Just so you know.


	3. That Tea Isn't Generally Sleepytime

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean shows up at Castiel's house 'looking for his camera'. Instead, fluff happens.

Dean walked down knotted carpet and hotel smell until he reached apartment 440, pressing the doorbell about five times before turning the handle and pushing the door open. He stepped in, looking over to the livingroom. “Hey, Cas.”

Castiel sat at his couch, mug up to his lips and hand on his laptop keyboard. He blinked as Dean sauntered into the kitchen and grabbed a wafer off of the counter. “Hello, Dean.”

Dean came out, shuffling over to the couch. He wrinkled his nose. “Ew, are you drinking that weird vanilla tea again?” Dean stepped over Castiel and plopped down on the leather throwing his head back and letting his arms cover his face.

“Yes, and it’s not weird,” Castiel argued, setting down his tea. “What are you doing here?”

“Are you gonna kick me out already? I came to look for my stupid camera ‘cause I left it here. I can’t find it.” Dean didn’t move, and his arms muffled his voice. He let a long breath go.

Castiel frowned. “Yeah, and you’re not looking for it. Is that the only reason you’re here?”

“Yeah, it’s not like I have any ulterior motives or anything.” Dean brought his hand down his face, rubbing his eyes with his knuckles. 

Castiel smiled, setting his mug down on the coffee table. “Dean, when was the last time you had a full night’s sleep?”

Dean paused, blinking at the blank television in front of them. “Does a full night’s sleep all have to happen in one night, or can I add the hours up over a period of weeks?” He absently kicked at Castiel’s coffee table, dazing off at the shaking piles of architecture books on the surface.

Castiel sighed. “I think you need some sleep. Have a rest, I’ll put a movie on.” Castiel made a move to get up, and Dean pulled his legs towards himself.

“I don’t want to sleep. I want to eat things and pretend I don’t exist.” Dean scratched at his chin tiredly. Castiel frowned, letting himself gently back down onto the couch. “Can I have some of your stupid tea?” Dean asked, mumbling, and slowly pulling a knit blanket from the adjacent chair and curling himself up in it.

“I’m going to put a movie on,” Castiel smiled, gently, standing up and walking over to the kitchen. “And yes, you can have some of my tea. I just made a pot. Milk and sugar?”

“However you take it is fine.” Dean said, and his voice was shallow as Castiel walked away. Dean shut his eyes and rubbed them again, curling his other hand into the blanket. Castiel didn’t know whether to laugh or fret and the scene before him when he came back.

“What movie are we gonna watch?” Dean asked, bitching. “If you make me watch Leap Year again I’m probably gonna rip your eyeballs out or something.” Dean pulled a string out of the blanket.

Castiel rolled his eyes. “No, we won’t watch that. Do you have any movie suggestions?” He dimmed the lights, handed Dean the mug of tea and sat beside him, turning the TV on with the remote in front of him.

“How about Inception? Or The Runaways. Lets watch that.”

Castiel began to flip through Netflix, nodding. He looked over at Dean who was breathing in the smell of his tea, in and out. Castiel smiled, before taking note of the dejected look on Dean’s face. Castiel looked up at the TV, speaking softly. “You wanna talk about it, Dean?”

Dean frustratedly tore another thread off of the blanket, looking up at Castiel briefly before looking down in guilt. Dean scrunched his face and shrugged. “Nah.” His voice was nonchalant, but forced and painfully so. Dean sank farther into the couch.

Castiel smiled. “Come on, you’re fooling no-one.” He found the movie, but instead turned over to look at Dean.

Dean shrugged again, his nose right over the tea, before he realized he had Castiel’s full attention and he blushed. “It’s just. Stuff.” Dean looked into the cup as though it was the most interesting thing he’s seen. “My dad’s back in town, is all.”

Castiel scowled. “John is, really?” Castiel sighed, feeling the familiar distaste for Dean’s father coming back. “You and Sam can stay here if you want. You’re always welcome.”

Dean laughed then, grimly, looking up at the TV. “I might have to. I think maybe he’s just had enough of me and my stupid p—” Dean took a breath and let it out shakily, looking down. “I guess I’m just not the good one anymore, anyway.” Dean took a sip of tea and sighed again, relaxing his shoulders a bit. “Whatever, let’s just start the movie.”

“No,” Castiel said, sadness in his veins. “No, you’re worth more than he says. He never knew what he was talking about. You and Sam are the best things he could ever have and he treats both of you like trash, and that’s not on you.”

Dean looked over at Cas, trying not to look as distressed as he was. “Last time he was here he said that if I continued with photography, I’d turn gay. He thinks it’s girly.” Dean ripped another thread out. “Oops, sorry. Anyway, yesterday he found out that he was right. Wasn’t too happy about that.” Dean looked up, laughing dryly once again. “Took all Sam and Bobby to keep him off of my dumb ass. If I go back there he’ll probably rip my face off.”

Castiel felt his heart ache. It wasn’t fair that Dean had to go through the things he did. “I don’t like him,” Castiel said, although Dean already knew it. 

“I feel like I should not like him,” Dean said, drinking his tea. “But instead I just don’t like myself. I can’t like both of us.”

Castiel put a hand on Dean’s shoulder, unsure of what to do really. So he whispered: “Maybe that’s true. But I guess that explains why Bobby and Sam and I don’t like him.”

Dean smiled slightly, bringing the tea to his mouth and drinking. Castiel did the same. After a while, he started the movie, and in the quiet opening scene looked at Dean, smiling. “You really like that stupid tea, don’t you?”

“It reminds me of you,” Dean said, looking at it. He said it so simply, and Castiel figured that’s one of the things he likes about Dean, is the way he can be so surprising and unexpected. As if a sentence like that wouldn’t stop Castiel right in his own mind and fill him up with so much warmth he felt like the sun.

“But,” Castiel said, softly. “But I’m right here. I’m always right here.”

Dean looked over, not enough to meet Castiel’s eyes, but only because he’s shy. Dean leaned over and Castiel held up his arm as Dean settled on his shoulder, resting his head in the other’s neck. Dean pretended he didn’t notice that Castiel pulled another blanket over the two of them, wrapping his right arm around Dean as the movie started getting going.

Later on, Dean was barely conscious enough to register the two gentle arms wrapping around his torso and the light pair of lips pressed into his hair. “I love you,” he thought they said, but he couldn’t be sure. The last sense to fall out of consciousness was smell; the warm, soothing smells of vanilla, rose and earl grey.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ~Based loosely on an Omegle roll play~


End file.
